


A Case of You

by acciss



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Death, F/M, Funeral, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:36:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciss/pseuds/acciss
Summary: Keito had been preparing for this day ever since he met Eichi. He’d spend his life up to this point bracing himself, like he was in the process of a long, long fall from the face of a cliff into a body of water that threatened to drown him if he didn’t hold his breath. Every quarrel over a missed pill, every kiss that was marred with the metallic taste of blood, served as a grim reminder of the inevitable conclusion to their tale.Keito, now a successful manga artist, recalls his departed muse.





	A Case of You

Keito has always been at ease with death. He grew up around it, in the same way that other people might grow up around animals on a farm. Death was a part of his family’s trade. It was never the unthinkable horror for him that it was to most everyone else. When he thinks of funerals, doesn’t feel sadness or longing for the departed. He remembers the woody smell of burning incense, hears the rhythmic beating of drums that seemed to fall in time with the sobs and sighs of the crowd, and everything shrouded in a smoky darkness. Eichi used to stroke Keito’s cheek and call him his _shinigami_ , his very own god of death. Sometimes it seemed that death had it’s own kind of strange allure, and their shared understanding of it was partially what drew Eichi and Keito to one another. Keito remembers Eichi’s mantra, always delivered with that disarming smile:

‘Life shines the brightest in the shadow of death.’

Eichi, with all of his heavenly beauty, talking so charmingly about dying- Keito thinks that image must be burned into the minds of most everyone who crossed paths with him.

Keito examines his surroundings, his box-like apartment in Tokyo, where he is near perpetually perched at his desk. He sits by the window, though he rarely finds the view very inspiring. Keito, who is accustomed to the overflowing, sacred beauty of temples, would naturally struggle to draw stimulus from the dull walls of the buildings that are adjacent to his, their tallness drowning out the sky. Still, tonight the stars (at least, what can see of them) are shining brightly, and the warm yellow glow that emanates from the windows of the other apartments brings it’s own kind of artificial beauty. His neighbours are surprisingly quiet, too-the only sound in his room is the soft scratching of his pencil against paper. He feels at ease. 

For Keito, drawing isn’t much different to eating or breathing. Not that he needs it to survive, no; he’s far too pragmatic to carry any such romantic notions about art. Rather, it’s something that he’s done for so long that it feels like a natural instinct. When Eichi died, he returned to his goal of becoming a manga artist. It made sense, and he achieved success with as much as ease as one can possibly find in that industry. He cut his teeth as an assistant for a number of fairly high-profile publications before being offered the chance to produce his own original work. He hasn’t hired any assistants of his own yet, as he’s still working through the main scenario. He looks forward to the day that he can though; he thinks it will feel a bit like being the acting president of the Student Council again.

Cutting ties with Akatsuki hadn’t been all that difficult. They focused intently on their performance as idols while at Yumenosaki, but as they got older it became clear that none of them really had their hearts in it. They cared, but not to the extent that units like Trickstar or fine did. They understood the fickleness of the entertainment industry, and none of them were too keen to give themselves over entirely to an entity that would inevitably spit them out as quickly as it would chew them up. Once they graduated, they continued with some half-hearted performances, but only at Eichi’s request. As time passed, it became increasingly obvious that they would be disbanding once Eichi died. It was never mentioned; Souma and Kuro certainly found that notion perverse, but it was an unspoken fact nonetheless. Keito came to Yumenosaki for Eichi, founded Akatsuki for Eichi. It only made sense that Akatsuki would cease to exist once Eichi did. 

In the year following his death, Keito began to fully realize how much of his life had been shaped by Eichi. It was well accepted that Eichi would attend Yumenosaki- he was a Tenshouin after all, a legendary name in the entertainment industry. Keito, though, had always struggled to envision himself as a performer. Still, he was confident in his ability to succeed at whatever he turned his hand to, and so he followed Eichi to keep him safe. Akatsuki worked their way up to ‘second best’, so that fine would never have to worry about being surpassed. Well, that certainly hadn’t been how it played out, but it worked for a while. Eichi descended upon Yumenosaki like a storm, destroying anyone who was unfortunate enough to find themselves in his line of fire. Keito thinks that Eichi’s heart was sometimes in the right place, but he also had a penchant for causing chaos and revelling in the fallout. Eichi never had a chance to be a real troublemaker as a child- it was hard to be a brat when you were so weak you could hardly lift a spoon. When Keito saw barely concealed mischief creeping it’s way onto Eichi’s face as he devised his callous plans, he also saw a repressed childhood longing rearing it’s troublesome head. Keito sometimes feels a little bad about the things that he helped Eichi do- but not often. The truth is, he didn’t, and still doesn’t, care much about anyone who isn’t Eichi. 

Keito pushes the ridge of his glasses back up his nose and examines the progress he has made on his panel. There hasn’t been as much as he would like, but what he has done looks good. He almost scolds himself for working so slowly, for being so wrapped up in thoughts of the past, but he forgives himself. He’s been working all day long, and it’s rare that he feels sentimental enough to indulge himself like this. He glances at the photo frame that he keeps on the window sill. In it is a photo of himself and Eichi, during their last few days of third year at Yumenosaki. Eichi looks radiant, but Keito isn’t smiling-he never was good at having his photo taken. He decided to frame it on a whim one day, and now it serves as the sole indication of any personality in the otherwise plain, sparsely furnished room.

 

Eichi was 25 when he died. Death is inevitable for us all, but it seemed to follow Eichi wherever he went- always nipping at his heels, reminding him of his finite time.

He had been such a miserable child, when Keito first knew him. He looked like an angel, blue eyes and soft golden hair, but he was profoundly lonely, and burdened well beyond his years. He opened up quickly to Keito, because he was desperate, and because Keito was the first person to approach him on equal footing. Keito gave him the one gift that his parents couldn’t buy- a true sense of companionship, stripped of all social pretenses. He remembers how they would excitedly discuss Eichi’s funeral arrangements; Keito would draw caskets draped with flowers, and Eichi would clasp his hands together in delight. He was even more delighted when Keito let him keep the sketches. When Keito went through Eichi’s belongings after he died, he was surprised to find that he had kept almost everything Keito ever drew for him, in a drawer by his bedsit. 

When Eichi got older, he naturally grew into a perfect social butterfly- he was a Tenshouin, after all. But even then, no one ever got beyond his gilded gates the way Keito did. Keito’s refusal to ever approach Eichi with sympathy was perhaps the most crucial factor in their closeness. He doted on him, but never once did he pity him. There was absolutely nothing Eichi hated more than being pitied. Keito knew how it made him feel debilitated, how it reminded him that, no matter what he achieved, he would always be seen as a lesser human because of an illness that was wholly out of his control. In order to avoid pity, Eichi sought to incite any and all other emotions in people. Love, awe, lust, hatred, fear, despair; they were all far superior to that wretched, pathetic emotion that placed him so firmly beneath others.

In his moments of reminiscence, Keito often finds himself back at Eichi’s funeral. Like any Tenshouin funeral, it was a huge affair. The fact that Eichi had died at the very height of his fame made it a near national event, but there were fewer people there than one might have expected. He didn’t have much by way of family, and Eichi’s level of renown upon graduation meant he didn’t have to grovel for friends in high places like most young idols did; as such, he became a relatively reclusive adult. Almost everyone in attendance that day were past pupils of Yumenosaki. Despite the havoc that Eichi created there, his kindness towards his former classmates grew with age. For many, he was a crucial contact in the entertainment world, helping them to secure contracts and make new connections. Still, Keito knew that most of them didn’t fully trust him. They suspected that his kind-heartedness had come about not because he really cared for them, but because he was somehow attempting to atone for his former sins in order to make himself feel better. Despite this, no one hated Eichi enough to pass up the invitation.

The funeral really was a testament to the wide range of emotions that Eichi sparked in people. Tori, sat at the very front, was devastated- Eichi always made efforts to appear perfect to him, and despite the obvious increase in visits to the hospital, it seemed he never really grasped the gravity of Eichi’s condition until it was too late. Wataru was unsettlingly quiet and stoney-faced for the entirety of the ceremony, not even speaking when he released a flock of white doves as the procession came to a close. Shu and Mika stood at the back of the temple. Shu’s expression was unreadable, and Mika stood still with his eyes glued to the floor, jaw tensing intermittently. When he finally looked up, his mismatched eyes were lightly rimmed with red-but the anguish and anger that flashed across them told Keito that his tears hadn’t sprung from mourning. Mika, like many in that room, was confronted with the moral dilemma of discovering that the person he had so long demonized had known the depths of sadness just as fully and painfully as he did.

Somewhere in the middle sat Anzu, and of all the people there, Keito longed to read her thoughts during those few hours the most. She could barely stand to look during the procession, constantly pulling her gaze back to where her hands were crossed in her lap. She would appear composed, and then suddenly she would be overcome, choking back sobs. Like everyone, Anzu was initially afraid of Eichi, and he didn’t particularly care about her-but she proved herself to be a formidable opponent, and Eichi, with his flare for dramatics, hoped that they would become enemies. Even then, Anzu didn’t allow herself to be drawn into his orbit-but that only made him chase her more. Keito thinks they became close, but he isn’t completely sure. He was surprised on more than one occasion by the easy intimacy that seemed to have developed between them by the time Eichi was a third year. Keito recalls a particularly vivid memory: a warm evening in May, Eichi sitting cross legged on the school lawn, absent-mindedly playing with Anzu’s hair, who was resting her sleeping head in his lap. Keito can perfectly remember his own feelings in that moment, a fierce and rare jealousy that threatened to overthrow his calm and sensible exterior. Despite this, Eichi and Anzu seemed to drift apart from one another after high school. He doesn’t think Eichi ever quite loved her, but he sometimes wonders if she loved him.

As for Keito? Well, that was simple- he oversaw the entire occasion. Throwing himself into the logistics, he managed to drown out the increasingly loud voice in the back of his head that reminded him that Eichi was really gone, that he wouldn’t hear him laugh again, would never feel the warmth of soft, sallow hands squeezing his own in the dark again. He fussed over the others, made sure everyone was as comfortable as possible, and didn’t give himself the time to think. Mao and Kuro both approached him at different times that day, putting a hand on his shoulder and bearing into him with concerned eyes, asking him if he was okay. Keito quickly dismissed them, waving them away, telling him that he had been well prepared for this day. They only sighed and told him not to be afraid to talk to them if he needed to. Keito was being truthful, though; he had been preparing for this day ever since he met Eichi. He’d spend his life up to this point bracing himself, like he was in the process of a long, long fall from the face of a cliff into a body of water that threatened to drown him if he didn’t hold his breath. Every quarrel over a missed pill, every kiss that was marred with the metallic taste of blood, served as a grim reminder of the inevitable conclusion to their tale.

Keito opens his eyes, though he barely noticed that he had closed them. He draws back to examine the panel he has been working on. The lineart is finished, and he’s pleased with what’s taking shape. It’s an important scene- the introduction of the main antagonist. Keito’s line-art is exquisite, and his villain is pointedly beautiful. Her cape flows behind her as she readies a lightning attack from her tome, electrical sparks flying from her gloved hands. The most impressive thing about the drawing is the incredible expressiveness of her large eyes. They’re gleaming from behind her dark bangs, and in them one can detect equal parts confidence, mischievousness, malice, and delight. Looking at it, Keito suddenly remembers something he told Eichi all those years ago. 

‘I put down the pencil because I met someone far more interesting than any manga protagonist could ever be. That was you, Eichi. Don’t get the wrong idea.’

Eichi told Anzu he felt he had been feeding off of Keito’s dreams and passions, and that he wanted to give them back to him. Keito told him that he was an idiot, that he’d never taken anything from him. Now, Keito could see that wasn’t true. Eichi stole most everything from Keito, slowly but surely drained him of his autonomy, until he was just an empty vehicle for Eichi to possess from beyond the grave. He feels it the most vividly when he draws. When he draws, Eichi pours out of him, staining every page like a spilled glass of wine. He never realizes it until he’s finished, and he sees Eichi looking back at him in the eyes of his antagonist. But Eichi isn’t just found in his villains; he’s woven into every stroke of Keito’s pencil, imbuing everything he draws with his incomparable magic. He’s in every turn of phrase, every face, every star. Keito thinks then that he has never created anything original, he has only rewritten the stories and images he inherited from his wonderful, wicked muse. It seems a little sad, at first. But a part of Keito has known from the beginning that his life is inextricably linked to Eichi’s, and now he knows why. The world should not let death rob it of a soul like Eichi’s. He is a sun that shone so brightly that it burned out-and now Keito is his magnifying glass, with Eichi passing through him, intensifying his rays until they catch fire. Keito thinks that, as long as he never lets that flame extinguish, he’ll be content to live on as a vessel for this extraordinary soul that departed too soon.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed!  
> I've been in idol hell for about 2 years now but only in recent months have i started playing enstars. I really wish I'd gotten into it sooner because I've been depriving myself of a fantastic series. The story is far and away the best I've ever seen in an idol game, a number of the characters are fairly complex and nuanced, and to top it off, it seems to have an active fanfic community, which is wonderful.
> 
> Just about all of the dialogue here is repurposed from the Quarrel Festival event. If the very last part seems a bit strange, reading the 'Fleeting Prosperous Dream' section of that event will provide some context.


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